Melanie Griffith

Roar (1981)

Roar (1981)

(In French, On Cable TV, October 2019) Oh boy, what a movie. The story of the making of Roar is amazing in itself, but even if you see the movie absolutely cold you’ll be gobsmacked at what you will be seeing: a family of actors in their own rural home, interacting with a menagerie of wild cats running all around them. If you’ve grown up (like, well, everybody) with a healthy respect and primal fear of lions, tigers and panthers, that’s amazing enough. It’s hard not to be impressed by the way the actors and the animal share physical space with seemingly no barrier or protection: Far from the usual treatment of actors sharing the screen with dangerous animals, our protagonists make full physical contact with the beasts. It’s so captivating that it does take a while to realize that the story here hangs on only by the flimsiest of threads: It’s about a family joining their father in a big cat-infested house in Africa, and learning to like the animals. (Animal psychology is arguably more important in Roar than human psychology.) The scene-by-scene plotting is disjointed at best, with very little narrative cohesion from one shot to another. The editing is choppy. It feels improvised. These impressions are not accidental when you start reading about the amazing behind-the-scenes story of Roar and how it came to be. The quick version goes like this: While shooting a film in Africa, wife-and-husband Tippi Hedren and Noel Marshall came to like big cats and decided to illegally host as many of them as they could in their remote California residence. After altering the terrain to look like Africa and bringing together as many at 71 lions, 26 tigers, 10 cougars, 9 panthers and a host of other dangerous animals (including four Canadian geese potentially being the worst of them), they started shooting a movie with the noble goal of bolstering preservation efforts for big cats in Africa. Things, however, did not go as planned: The shooting took five years, not helped along by the animals’ lack of acting cooperation. There was a catastrophic flood, ruining sets, film, equipment and the producer/director/star’s own home. The finished film went unseen in North America. They went bankrupt. Animals died, either after escaping and being shot by authorities, or through illness. Roar’s five years of shooting extended to eleven years from pre-production to the final cut. Then there’s the fact that 70 people were injured on-set (some seriously, such as daughter Melanie Griffith and then-cinematographer Jan de Bont), because (as anyone knows) humans and big cats aren’t meant to live together. Imagine the crew turnover under these conditions. Hilariously enough, the film begins by the standard “No animals were harmed during the shooting of this movie”—when the film was re-released in 2005, the tagline added, “70 Cast and crewmembers were.”  The resulting footage is frankly amazing—By the time the characters share their beds with lions and tigers, it’s hard not to be scared and envious. (While nothing bad happens in the film, it was broadcast on a horror channel and my daughter flat-out refused to watch it, showing better self-preservation instincts than any character in the film.) But it does raise the question of whether this has been worth it—it’s easy to laugh in amazement at the kind of madness that led to the existence of the film, but only because nobody died along the way. Still, it exists, and its 2005 re-release did much to remind people of the fact: in the annals of moviemaking, you’d be hard-pressed to find a more amazing making-of than the story of how Roar came to be.

Nobody’s Fool (1994)

Nobody’s Fool (1994)

(On Cable TV, June 2019) For an actor that was once so vital to American cinema, it’s surprising to realize after the fact that Paul Newman essentially retired in the nineties, with a total of five films during that decade: At the exception of Road to Perdition, his twenty-first century career was low-key—voice acting, TV movies, smaller roles, this kind of thing. So, it’s a bit of a surprise to discover Nobody’s Fool as one of his parting lead roles, a small-town character-driven drama focused entirely on his character. Newman’s filmography is not the only one being enhanced by Nobody’s Fool—he plays opposite a cross-generational ensemble cast that includes a prime-era Bruce Willis, one of Jessica Tandy’s last roles, as well as turns for Melanie Griffith (who hilariously flashes her breasts to Newman’s character) and Philip Seymour Hoffman (as a policeman, no less). Willis, in particular, is almost a revelation for those who have grown used to his increasingly detached screen persona—here he is playing a now-unfamiliar character—loose, funny and engaged. Still, the show belongs to Newman: In a revealing contrast to his earlier, sullen roles, the bad boy of Hud and The Prize and Cool Hand Luke has mellowed into an elderly actor playing an elderly man who has found contentment in a simple life. It does complement the small-town charm of the film, albeit one tempered by a depressing snowy atmosphere and the very down-to-earth portrait of flawed characters. There’s more nudity than you’d think from a “small-town intimate drama.”  Still, Nobody’s Fool remains a bit more interesting than expected—and not just as a lesser-known title on multiple filmographies.

Working Girl (1988)

Working Girl (1988)

(On Cable TV, January 2019) Now there’s a strong contender for the title of the most 1980s movie ever. Working Girl came at a time when Hollywood seemingly couldn’t get enough of Manhattan’s Wall Street ambience, in between Wall Street and The Secret of my Success and Baby Boom and many others released in barely a three-year span. Unlike many of those, however, Work Girl clearly has (from its title onward) a clear idea that it wants to talk about class issues in the United States, especially when the Manhattan office environment can be used to put the very poor right alongside the very rich. Director Mike Nichols approaches the topic with two ideal actresses at each pole of the story: Melanie Griffith as the heroic low-class girl whose smarts exceed those around her, and Sigourney Weaver as her high-class, low-morals opposite. The opponents having been defined, the rest is up for grabs: the job, the prestige, even the boy-toy (Harrison Ford, good but not ideal—the role is funnier than he is) will be given to the winner. Good performances abound, with some surprising names (Joan Cusack! Alec Baldwin? Oliver Platt!! Kevin Spacey as a lecherous pervert?!) along the way. Still, this is Griffith and Weaver’s show. Only one of them shows up in lingerie, though. Now, Working Girl is not a perfect film—it does use a few shortcuts on the way to a sappy romantic conclusion, and it bothered me more than it should that the characters would assign so much importance to the idea as having value—in the real world, execution is far more important, but it doesn’t dramatize so well. Still, that doesn’t take much away from Working Girl as class conflict playing out in late-1980s Manhattan. It’s not a complicated film, but it is very well crafted. (One more thing: Weaver’s character’s name had me thinking of evil Katharine Hepburn, which led me to think about how the two women looked like each other, which had me thinking about how they could have switched many roles, which had me thinking about Katharine Hepburn as Ripley in Aliens. Hollywood, if you’re listening, I know you have the CGI and lack of morals to make this happen.)